


rust

by moo_lan



Series: kAnoShiN [10]
Category: Kagerou Project, Mekakucity Actors
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Unrequited Hate, ghost shintaro au ghost shintaro au ghost shintaro au, implied s/icide attempt but nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28243314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moo_lan/pseuds/moo_lan
Summary: The guy Kano hates is dead. But of-fucking-course things can't be that simple.
Relationships: Kano Shuuya/Kisaragi Shintaro
Series: kAnoShiN [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1676746
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	rust

**Author's Note:**

> for ren, my secret santa!!  
> [incoherent screaming] merry christmas!! i. you're awesome and i will fight anyone who says otherwise. no /lh here this is 100% honest. i'm up for 3 AM fistfights in the McDonalds parking lot anytime.
> 
> ghost shintaro au!! i've been waiting for this a long time. beta-ed by the truly awesome [sobs], thank you for existing, TheOwlPost!!

“Shintaro’s dead.”

Someone sobs in the background. Kido maybe? Kano’s not quite sure. He isn’t sure of anything at the moment, standing completely still and just. Breathing. 

He’s dead.

He’s-

The word falters, but Kano just keeps standing still. Keeps breathing. There’s something in his chest, a painful and burning little thing, like a coal that’s smoldering, scorching his insides. His enemy (?) is gone and there’s no one left to hate.

It feels like a load has been taken off his shoulders. For once, he doesn't even  _ try _ to pretend — a grin overtakes his face, wide and  cruel happy. 

“Really?” he almost-drawls. There’s no hiding his glee.

Kido’s sniffling and Seto’s tightly hugging her, looking a bit pale. Kano can’t understand them — the menace is finally gone! The same guy who’d treated their sister so terribly is no longer! 

“This,” begins someone behind Kano and he freezes, almost turns but stops himself. Still, the voice does not leave. He gulps. “This is weird.”

What. The actual.  _ Fuck? _

Victorious smile faltering on his face, scrunched up in a grimace, Kano turns to face the other.

“Yo,” says Shintaro’s Ghost, looking terribly at ease for someone who used to be so awkward while alive.

“What the fuck.” He’s glaring — or he’s sneering. To his shame, Kano’s expression has escaped his control. He pulls a careful mask over whatever he’s showing, blanking out his expression, ignoring the thought incessantly poking him in the side that it’s never fooled Shintaro before. What does Kano care — the guy’s dead.

He wordlessly leaves the room, going upstairs where his family has no way of hearing him. Shintaro follows him, looking terribly out of his element. But again, he always did look out of place.

Kano closes the door behind him, leaning back on it. Narrows his eyes at Shintaro, which has the desired effect — the other looks away, awkwardly shifting his weight. Kano thinks it’s inexplicable how Shintaro has always been surprised by his hatred for him. Inexplicable because  _ why  _ would he ever consider  _ him  _ a friend?

“Okay. So.” Kano crosses his arms, keeps glaring accusingly. Shintaro seems increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment — which makes Kano more satisfied than it probably should. “Care to explain?”

“Uh.” Shintaro looks up at him, meets his glare, looks down again. Kano swallows an unkind smile and instead just keeps staring. “I’m dead?” 

It comes out as a question and he lifts his hands, which are slightly see-through. The light from the window behind Shintaro shines through him, making him seem strangely transient — it gives Kano the feeling he could be gone any minute.

He can’t really say he’s enjoying it — because Kano does not feel a particular way towards this situation except mild annoyance. He does not care, no sir.

“I can  _ see _ that,” he grits his teeth, Shintaro takes a small step back. “I mean why are you  _ here _ ?” he viciously gestures to their surroundings: his room, which he now vaguely regrets bringing (dead) Shintaro into. His annoyance keeps growing, growing, growing. It always does when he’s around this idiot.

“I… I don’t know?” Shintaro’s looking down, at his feet, and the light shimmering at the edges of his silhouette makes him look all the more fragile and small. It abruptly reminds Kano that he’s recently deceased. That he’s standing there, in front of him, but he’s not actually  _ there _ . And he hasn’t cried about it once.

_ What the hell is wrong with this guy? _ — Kano forces the question into his mind, large and blunt and blinding, to smother whatever was starting to take root in spite of Kano actively attempting to weed out any bothersome thoughts (feelings). Just. Let him hate the guy in peace please.

“I,” he starts and. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say anything; and now Shintaro’s glancing up, looking at him expectantly. If he backtracks now this loser will have gotten the best of him. He definitely can’t have that. “I guess you can stay here if you wanna.” He tries to reign in his cringe.

“Oh.” Shintaro seems honestly surprised, which is. Kano can’t really tell how it is but it certainly  _ means _ something — not that Kano cares, of course. “Okay.”

_ That’s some shitty gratitude, _ Kano internally sneers. At the same time, the feeling in his chest scrunches up, curls into a ball. It feels weird and tense and he hates it.

“Yeah,” he replies, because a  _ “You’re welcome” _ would be too friendly and an  _ “Of course _ ” would imply that his help is something to be expected, that he actually cares about Shintaro. This seems perfectly passive-aggressive though. Unsympathetic and not encouraging a “next time”.

Shintaro’s face folds in on itself — it takes Kano a couple of moments to recognize it as an awkward, forced smile. His face isn't used to smiling. Which means nothing, absolutely nothing to Kano.

“Make yourself at home.” Flippantly gesturing in the general direction of the armchair in the corner (there are at least five hoodies on it — he doesn’t bother to move them), Kano throws himself on the bed and pulls a random magazine from his nightstand. It’s a TV guide, but if he gets something else from the table now Shintaro will notice. And he can’t let the menace think he’s better than Kano. So yeah. He reads the TV guide.

“You’re not pretending anymore,” states Shintaro a couple of minutes later, when Kano has already read the jokes at the end of the magazine and he’s started miserably reading the actual movie summaries.

His first thought is that yes, he is pretending. Pretending to actually enjoy this TV guide. But a glance at Shintaro’s carefully expressionless face tells him that that’s not what they’re not talking about here.

“Whatever-” he sits up “-do you mean?” He’s smiling sweetly and usually that would make the person the expression’s directed at cower and change the subject. But not Shintaro because why the fuck would he.

( _ He’s already dead, why would he care?, _ thinks Kano, but he pushes it away.)

“I mean.” A pause. Two expressions are warring on Shintaro’s face for a couple of moments, then he goes on, a bit awkwardly: “You’re not pretending that you don’t hate me.”

The second part of the sentence hangs in the air between them, both Shintaro and Kano hearing it as clear as day:  _ You’re being as close to honest as you’re able to get. _

Kano  _ wants _ to say something mean, fully intends to say something hurtful and aggressive in response — he’s scrambling for words, but he can’t find them. And all the while Shintaro’s staring at him, eyes a bit distant. Blank.

( _ He’s dead, he has nothing. _   
  
_ Shut up. _ )

Sighing, Kano leans back against the wall, maintaining eye contact. He won’t be the one to lose. “Yep. I’m not.” He tries for a half-sneer, half-smirk, but it stops halfway before a smile. So Kano’s left slightly smiling at Shintaro, whose eyes widen almost imperceptibly. His face does that weird scrunch-up thing that he probably calls a smile.

Then he blinks, confused. “Oh,” is all he has the time to say before he’s suddenly gone. Fades out like mist under the morning sun. Chair’s left empty and Kano’s alone in his room, close to smiling but not quite.

  
  
  


The second time Shintaro appears, it’s 3 AM and Kano’s pulling his boots on with brusque motions. He feels Shintaro appearing before he sees him — a sudden pressure by his side. Left ear starts lowly ringing and when he glances at his side, Shintaro’s there, looking a bit confused.

“Welcome back,” he mutters, because apparently this is his life now. 

“Uh.” Shintaro’s still looking around himself as if he’s walked in the wrong room by mistake. The dim lighting of the hallway shines through his body just barely, and if you squint your eyes you can pretend he’s actually there. Pretend it’s really Shintaro, not just his Ghost.

“Very eloquent,” smirks Kano, because the alternatives are asking him what’s wrong or turning off the lights so he won’t be reminded of the fact that this Shintaro isn’t the real thing.

He opens the door and steps outside, Shintaro following him and trying to shut it behind them — his hand goes right through it. Face blank, he stares at it for a moment and Kano’s chest twists painfully. He ignores the feeling and closes the door.

Neither of them say anything.

Instead, they walk in silence. The streets are empty, as they usually are at this hour.

“Kano?” Shintaro asks. Kano abruptly realizes he’d stopped walking, the asphalt rough and fractured beneath his boots. It shines with damp moonlight.

Above them, the streetlight flickers ominously. Moths are noisily slamming against its bulb and their shadows create patterns on the pavement. In the dim light, Shintaro seems misleadingly solid, real.

Kano’s chest turns, twists like a corkscrew. He turns to face Shintaro, who, seeing his expression, takes a step back. Kano doesn’t know what his face is showing. Doesn’t really care.

“Don’t you-” He can still stop. He can still say nothing. Keep on hating the guy, stay in the same comfortable routine of annoyance and deceit. 

But Shintaro’s by his side, half-transparent and eyes dim. Eyes dim and watching him. Kano has to fight the sudden urge to cry, and he doesn’t really understand why.

It’s uncomfortable, really. So strange to fidget on the spot, to avoid eye contact. Which is maybe why Kano suddenly finds himself grabbing Shintaro by the collar and violently pulling the other down towards him.

  
  


“Don’t you fucking care you’re dead?!” he asks, and he might be yelling. He can’t really tell, can’t really hear past the buzzing in his ears — which gets even worse when a street light flickers on and shines right through Shintaro’s body. Lights it up, like a sheet of calc paper, half-transparent and easy to rip through.

“I…” He looks away and Kano’s hit by the feeling that there’s something he’s missing here.

Yet, he can’t stop his anger. “Well?!” he’s yelling again.

“Kano, do you know.” He takes a deep breath, looks away, back at him again. “Do you know how-”

Suddenly, Kano stumbles and falls backwards. Except it isn’t that he’d stumbled. It’s that he’s no longer holding on to anything.

Shintaro’s gone.

  
  
  


It’s raining because of  _ course  _ it is. Usually Kano enjoys walks in the rain, the smell of it, the coolness of the raindrops getting under his hood. The puddles. But he can’t say he’s liking it too much at the moment.

His left ear rings, pops, and there’s a sudden pressure by his side. Kano’s stomach does a weird flip and he has absolutely no idea what his brain’s trying to tell him. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

It’s raining and it’s cold and Kano and a disgruntled Ghost are standing in the middle of the empty street.

“Does rain pass through you?” asks Kano, because what else could he  _ say _ to the Ghost of his used-to-be-enemy-but-maybe-we’re-almost-friends-now?

“Yeah, it just feels cold,” Shintaro replies, and Kano’s suddenly annoyed with him. Being a Ghost doesn’t necessarily mean that he has to be so bland! Where’s the Shintaro he’d known before!?   
  


( _ Did you really know him before though? Do you know him now?  _

_ Shut up.) _

“You know, I should probably tell you-” begins Shintaro. Kano glances at him, droplets of rain streaming down his face, getting into his eyes. “I’m not dead.”

Kano stills, his breath stuttering. The rain keeps pouring around them but he’s no longer feeling it.

“I mean.” Shintaro drags a hand through his hair, a habit Kano doesn’t remember. Or maybe he never knew it. Like he’d probably never known Shintaro. Guilt is choking him, but he breathes past it. “Not me? Like. Alive me I guess. I don’t know.”

“Ah.” Kano’s voice cracks on the word and he’s feeling a whole ratatouille of feelings right now, none of them decipherable. Most of all he wants to cry.

“Kano? Are- are you crying?” Shintaro’s suddenly in front of him, staring into his face. Kano glowers at him, wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“It’s just the rain,” he says, but they both know he’s lying. “What do you mean you’re not dead?”

“I’m just, uh.” He pulls at the sleeve of his jersey and Kano’s staring at the gesture, his chest a knot that just. Keeps. Tightening. “In a coma?”

“Then why’d they tell us you’re…” he makes a vague gesture with his hand, unable to say the word. Shintaro’s eyes are boring right into him, as if he’s reading into it. He’s probably psychoanalyzing him right now.

“Maybe they thought I wouldn’t make it?” He shrugs and Kano wants to punch him in the face when he sees the indifference in it.

Instead, he looks away, tasting the rain and trying to keep from crying as multiple contradicting emotions assault him, overwhelm him. The rain slithers in, eats at him. He’ll rust away into nothing. “And will you? Make it?” His voice is kept carefully blank, but it doesn’t really matter. Shintaro would notice anyway.

“Who kn-” A glare from Kano and Shintaro hastily changes track “I mean, yeah.”

Shintaro’s staring at him, and Kano really wants to look away — he can see the rain pass through him. But he doesn’t.

A moment later he’s gone — the rain keeps falling as though he was never there.

  
  
  


Whatever it is that Kano’s feeling, it doesn’t happen every day. But that doesn’t mean that Kano is surprised when it does. Disappointed with himself, yes. Disgusted, absolutely.

But then again, he’s always disgusted with himself, so that probably doesn’t mean much. 

Exhaustion’s pulling at his edges, dragging them down and pushing on his spine. It sticks to the soles of his feet and burrows into the ground, making Kano’s feet seem impossibly heavy. There’s no way he’ll be able to keep going.

The playground’s empty around him, only the rusty sounds of metal scraping against metal to keep him company. That and the sudden ringing in his left ear, which pops and buzzes.

By his side, Shintaro’s idly pushing himself back and forth on the rusty swing. The metal’s making a dubious creaky noise, as though it might break and fall any moment. Shintaro doesn’t seem to mind, most possibly because he’s a Ghost and he has nothing to worry for.

Kano’s frame feels muddy and slow, as if watching himself from underwater, stuck on the ocean floor. There’s algae knotted against his ankles and he can’t breathe.

His breath clouds in front of his face.

Shintaro swings forward, backward. The creaking rattles inside Kano’s skull.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, either because he’s Shintaro and he’s awkward and doesn’t know how to deal with this or because Depressed Kano™ is too much to deal with.

Probably both.

Kano stays silent, pushes his swing back, lets himself fall forward. The swing’s chain shudders and creaks. Rust gathers on Kano’s palms like old blood.

“Okay,” murmurs Shintaro, staying where he is. Kano dimly wonders why he cares, since he’s just a Ghost. Maybe Kano’s finally gone insane.

( _ Why does it matter though? _

_...It doesn’t.) _

Maybe if Kano wasn’t so tired, he would’ve said something snarky. Or something bright and cheery. But he’s exhausted, and he doesn’t (he does) understand why — he wants to  _ cry. _ He wants to go home.

“Then go,” says Shintaro and Kano absently realizes that he must’ve said the last part out loud. He can’t be bothered to care.

“Home?” His voice is cold and distant. He doesn’t recognize it. But he also can’t recognize himself most of the time, so that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Doesn’t  _ need  _ to mean anything.

“You have a home,” Shintaro tells him, as if Kano wasn’t already aware of it. He was. He knew that.

“Yeah,” he breathes and stands up, the seat swinging back behind him. It creaks ominously and he stares at the blood-coloured stains on his hands. Stares at the familiarity of it. “I do.”

Anxiety pools at the bottom of his stomach, cold but burning. He inhales, exhales. His breath is white and cloudy, transparent like Shintaro beside him.

“But I can’t go right now,” he blurts as his stomach flips over like a dead fish. Nausea’s prodding at the cracks in his armour, slips through it like water.

“Okay,” is all Shintaro says, still by his side. There’s no bloody rust on his hands, because he’s not real and Kano’s most probably imagining this whole thing.

Dampness is gathered on the surface of the slide — Kano wipes it away and sits at the bottom. A moment later, Shintaro’s gingerly sliding in beside him. It’s cramped and uncomfortable and Shintaro keeps glancing at him as if he’s asking Kano if this is alright, but Kano doesn’t really care, since this isn’t even a real person. It’s just a Ghost.

And even if Shintaro feels solid, albeit cold, beside him, that still means nothing. It still means nothing when Shintaro gently grips his hand, interlacing their fingers.

Shintaro’s palm feels like mist. It distracts Kano from the roiling nausea in his stomach.

Snowflakes have started falling, gently fluttering in the mist. They catch in Kano’s hair and in his eyelashes, turning his nose pink and numb.

(They pass right through Shintaro and Kano pretends not to notice. They’re still holding hands and Shintaro’s palm has started feeling warm compared to his.)

“Oh,” he hears Shintaro beside him. He glances at him, finding the Ghost with his head upturned to stare at the grey sky above. “It’s snowing.”

“Yeah, no shit,” smirks Kano and Shintaro smiles before looking away. His hold on Kano’s hand tightens and Kano squeezes back before he can think better of it.

Above them, the cold sky is smoldering at the edges. The sun is inching towards the horizon and the shadows on the asphalt are reaching for Kano’s feet.

“I should go home,” he realizes. Next to him, Shintaro remains silent. He’d probably stay with Kano no matter where he went right now — which doesn’t have to mean anything (everything) to Kano, but it does. It settles in his chest, warm and soft.

The dusk no longer seems brutally cold when they stand up. Kano’s fingers are frozen numb, but he doesn’t want to let go of Shintaro’s hand, and putting both their hands in his pocket seems… Kano doesn’t really want to think about how it seems, especially since he’d been considering doing it the moment before.

So, instead, he just keeps holding hands with Shintaro while walking home. The Ghost says nothing, just follows.

The snow has gathered in his hair like a halo by the time they reach the house, and he can feel it melting on his ears, dripping on his temples. Shintaro reaches over and brushes it off, his face soft and misleadingly solid in the dim light.

Kano’s hit by the overwhelming urge to cry while a small voice in his head keeps reminding him about the Ghost’s words —  _ He’s not dead. He’s  _ _ not _ _ dead. _ It’s a quiet mantra buzzing in the back of his head and he smiles up at Shintaro, who’s still tidying up his hair.

Kano tells himself he lets him do this because he’s a Ghost and he isn’t real, but even he can’t fool himself on this one.

When Kano opens the door, he’s immediately hit by the light and the warmth inside. His fingers are buzzing with numbness and, by his side, Shintaro’s shimmering with the light passing through him. Closing the door, he idly asks himself why Shintaro hasn’t disappeared yet. How come he’s still here?

“Wanna watch a movie?” Kano asks the Ghost, because whatever’s there, shimmering between them, seems small and fragile and, frankly, uncomfortable. So horror movies seem the way to go.

Shintaro nods absently, hesitating in the doorway. He’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other, awkward and shy. Which makes Kano awkward and shy, so he shouts at Shintaro, telling him to come in already and starts the movie — some cheap remake of an old horror movie he can’t be bothered to remember the name of.

Sitting down on the floor and leaning against the bed, Kano steals a glance at Shintaro, who sits down next to him and stares stoically at the screen. Hiding a smile, Kano looks back at the screen. He’s gonna be  _ so scared _ . It’ll be hilarious.

But, as it turns out, the CD and the case have been mismatched — and what they’re now watching is, in fact, a well-made, award-winning, absolutely  _ terrifying _ horror movie.

Kano freezes. He can feel that Shintaro’s just as scared, but if he changes the movie now he’ll look like a coward. He’ll have lost. So he lets the movie play and tries not to cry too much, which is hard even with Shintaro by his side screaming at the slightest jumpscare. (Idiot.)

It would be amusing if he wasn’t terrified himself.

It’s late into the night, when they’re well into their third movie (a comedy, much needed after the horror movie fiasco) and Kano has dozed off with his head slumped against the bed and his arm pressed against Shintaro’s, that the Ghost finally dissipates.

For good.

  
  
  
  


—

  
  
  
  
  


The thing about going to visit someone in the hospital who’s freshly out of a coma and with whose Ghost you may or may not have been interacting with in the past few weeks is that it’s hard to tell if you’re allowed to mention said Ghost. Are they the same person? Has Kano been hallucinating this entire time? There’s no-one to ask, because the Ghost is gone and there’s only the real, Alive thing before him.

He doesn’t know how to act, Kano belatedly realizes as he opens the sliding door to the hospital room and finds Shintaro staring at him. His eyes are blank, but not as blank as that night in the rain. Kano supposes that’s a start.

“Hey,” he smiles (grimaces) at Shintaro. Where has his charisma gone? He could’ve sworn he used to be cooler than this. The personification of the sparkle emoji, light-up shoes and obnoxiously catchy songs, where was that Kano? 

“Yo,” says Shintaro, and he’s awkward and fidgety and  _ this _ Shintaro is familiar to Kano. There are bandages wrapped around his throat and Kano’s stomach does a somersault — he feels terribly, agonizingly,  _ scared _ . He feels sick. “I think I dreamt about you.”

For a moment, they stare at each other, then Shintaro, wide-eyed, moves his eyes to the ground and grows increasingly red and embarrassed. He covers his face with his hands and whines and Kano’s barely keeping his laughter in. But not barely, because he’s still terrified and trying to keep his eyes focused anywhere except on the white band around his neck.

Smirking, he moves closer, takes a seat beside Shintaro’s bed. “Oh~ Only bad things I hope.” 

He has absolutely no idea what he’s saying, only that he’s trying to get Shintaro to blush some more. How amusing. All in good fun. (Distract him, help him. Kano’s scared. He doesn’t like it.)

But Shintaro’s turning to face him, strangely earnest. “Not really.” He’s slightly smiling and Kano definitely doesn’t blush.

There’s still fear coiled around his stomach, but maybe, just maybe, things will turn out well after all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> shintaro and kano's wobbly smiles. [heartclench]
> 
> ples leave kudos i will crochet a (very ugly and disproportioned) scarf for u.


End file.
